Wired in LaJunta

I had to stop in LaJunta, Colorado, to find a place where cell phones and wireless connections are in people's vocabularies, and they understand that cappuccino is made with espresso.

However, the trip to see Mark's band play in Trinidad last night was fun.

I stopped in Blanca, Colorado, distracted by an enormous buffalo named Joe. Joe's owner, R.V. (not making that up) owns a trading post/history center/B&B that's in the works, and he and his wife were pleased to show me their animals and describe their plans, give me a Louisiana-visit itinerary and kindly let me know that although they don't go to church, they do believe in God, and would be praying that my journey takes me to wherever He wants me to be.

R.V., busily sharpening his pocket knife on a piece of sandpaper, also let me know (as soon as he saw my California plates) none of the animals -- especially Joe -- are being abused in any way. I felt a little stereotyped, except he was right -- I was wondering.

Joe was not down with petting, but Papa, the Dorado sheep (who looks suspiciously like a goat) was very much in favor of a little forehead-rubbing, as were the horses, especially when I had handfuls of R.V.'s hand-mixed molasses oats.

R.V., whose eyes are exactly the same color as his faded denim shirt, explained to me how not enough people understand their heritage and history, so it's his intention to keep a piece of the Old West alive in a peaceful spot where people can spend time "lettin' their cogitations roam around in their heads and take some shapes." He plans to offer a history center where people can see more than 200 demonstrations of things like soap making and chuckwagon cookery.

So far, the history center/trading post/B&B is just an L-shaped hole in the ground, surrounded by a teepee, a lean-to with some jewelry, rugs and pottery for sale, a small log shed where R.V. cuts wood, a campfire circled by plastic lawn chairs and some horses that can be rented for brief trail rides.

In a few years, though, it will be THE place to stop for people driving through the Sangre de Cristos.

The horse rides were extremely tempting, but my cogitations were also demanding some time, so I headed east for Walsenburg. Hung out with Mark, swapped journalism stories, played catch-up and then drove about half an hour south to Trinidad, where Mark's jazz combo would be performing at the brewpub.

These guys are good. I had no idea Mark was such a skilled saxophone player. And Dave and Tom, the drummer and bassist, in addition to being really nice guys, pretty much rock.

Dave and I bonded over our shared love of Chicago, our shared residence in the Seattle area and, miraculously, our shared love of Cheap Trick! You never know where you'll find fellow fans.

Even though nothing in Trinidad worked -- including the pay-at-the-pump gas station or the car wash (Wolfgang is desperately in need of a bath), and my hotel room was quite a step down from the South Fork sah-weet (let's just say I'm glad I didn't have a black light, or I would have run screaming for a bottle of Clorox) it was a great time!

I'm getting near the Kans-ass border (the iPod is fully charged and I'm about to take a couple of No-Doz with a double espresso), but wanted to post about yesterday, and include this picture of Blanca Peak.